


Fighting the Moonlight

by Kai_ROz



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Eve Saves Villanelle, F/F, For Sure Jealousy, Maybe Some Domesticity, Soft (sometimes), Soulmates, Villanelle as an Interior Designer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26220661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai_ROz/pseuds/Kai_ROz
Summary: “This is a blue moon – meant for romance. For true love. It shouldn’t be wasted on the Niko’s of this world.”ORMoonstruck! But it's Villaneve and it's gay!
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 27
Kudos: 92
Collections: Killing Eve Week 2020





	1. Where Love is King

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my KE Week entry, beginning with Soulmates (in theory). The whole story is soulmate-y, and will hit the prompts for each day (skipping the canon and maybe the hurt/sick/comfort and TBD on domesticity).
> 
> Soulmate AUs are just not my thing – there are too many really wonderful stories out there already and frankly, I’m not that creative to come up with something new.
> 
> BUT… Moonstruck is one of my favorite movies of all time. If you’ve never seen it, you absolutely should! As in, stop what you are doing and watch this movie now. Cher's performance is unreal, and she is a total savage!
> 
> I also highly recommend that you listen to That's Amore by Dean Martin.
> 
> Without further ado, this is Villaneve as Moonstruck…

Niko nervously runs his hands through his hair and Eve eyes him suspiciously.

They are sitting at their favorite table in their regular Indian restaurant. It’s the same restaurant they’ve gone to every Friday night for three years.

It’s part of their routine – one that started when they first began dating.

In those early months and years, Eve loved this place. Now, it’s become a bit too repetitive.

As their dinner plates are cleared from the table and Eve takes a final sip of her Riesling, Niko clears his throat.

“You know, Eve, we’ve been together for so long and I’m off to see ma tomorrow – it makes you think…” he trails off when the waiter returns.

“May I get you anything else,” the waiter asks.

“No, we’ll take the cheque,” Eve says while her eyes are firmly fixed on Niko.

Out of nowhere and entirely out of character, Niko sheepishly says, “I’d like another glass of wine actually.”

“What? You never get a second glass of wine and you don’t want to be drunk on the plane,” she says.

Niko smiles at her.

“You take care of me, Eve.”

The waiter clears his throat.

“So… do you want more wine?”

“No, we will take the bill,” Eve responds.

“Will you marry me?” Niko blurts it out so quickly and so quietly that Eve swears she must be hearing things.

“What,” she asks in her confusion.

“Marry me.”

“The cheque, please,” Eve says to the waiter. 

He slowly backs away and leaves them to stare at one another.

Eve leans over the table and points her finger back and forth between herself and Niko. 

“Are you proposing to me?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, where’s the ring?”

“What do you mean?”

Eve thinks it’s fairly obvious what she means.

“If you’re proposing marriage, there should be a ring and kneeling,” Eve says matter-of-factly.

There should also be flowers and they should be surrounded by their friends and it should be a more romantic gesture than this, but she lets it slide. After all, Eve can’t complain too much.

She is a 40-something single woman with no other prospects knocking on her door and no desire to submit herself to the world of online dating or whatever else it is people do now.

Dating isn’t exactly her favorite thing in the world and she gets on well enough with Niko.

_It works and it’s fine._

_Niko’s fine._

“You want me to get down on my knee,” he asks with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

“Yes. On your knee, on the floor.”

Niko begrudgingly slides out of his chair and drops to one knee in the centre of the small space.

Other diners begin to turn their heads toward the action.

Niko looks around the restaurant and wiggles his moustache. It’s what he does when he’s nervous.

She gives him a small nod of encouragement.

He clears his throat.

“Eve – will you marry me,” he asks again.

“Where’ the ring?”

“I didn’t get a ring.”

“Then you should,” Eve says.

Niko furrows his brow.

“Is that a yes?”

“Is there going to be a ring?”

“Uhm… yes…”

“Then, yes, Niko Polastri. I will marry you,” Eve says with a smile. 

Niko stands up and wraps her in an overly tight hug. His moustache tickles her ear and she lets herself slide into his warm embrace.

The other restaurant goers clap and cheer for the newly engaged couple.

“But you better come back from Poland with a ring,” Eve warns.

“I will. I promise.”

Eve backs away from the hug and Niko raises his hand for the waiter.

“Yes,” the waiter asks.

“Champagne, please,” Niko says.

They each have a glass of Champagne and share some pleasant small talk before heading to the airport for Niko’s flight to Poland.

He’ll be gone for two weeks and while Eve will miss him, especially now that they’re engaged, she’s glad that he’s going on his own.

Eve and Niko’s mother don’t exactly get along.

She thinks about how much of a relief it is that they’ll be getting married after she’s gone. It’s impossible for Eve to imagine how she could survive a scenario where she has to plan a wedding with that damn woman.

It will be an even bigger relief that Niko will finally be out from under his mom’s thumb. Maybe he’ll finally become his own man.

_Better late than never._

As Eve pulls up to the departures entrance of Heathrow, she puts on her hazard lights and turns off the engine.

“Good luck,” she says a bit too happily to a man who is about to take a flight to see his sick parent.

“Thanks. I can’t wait to tell ma about our engagement.” Niko beams at her as he opens the passenger door.

Eve smiles back briefly then rolls her eyes while he isn’t looking.

After he grabs his bag from the trunk, Niko walks to Eve’s window.

“Darling, I’ll miss you so much.”

“Me too,” Eve says with another smile. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

She watches as Niko’s smile grows across his kind face, with his top lip hidden by his moustache.

“While I’m gone, I need you to do me a favor. It’s important.”

“Okay…” Eve raises her brow.

“My cousin. You have to find her and convince her to come to the wedding. She and I had a falling out years ago. It would mean so much to me… we used to be great friends when she was younger. I loved her like a sister,” Niko explains.

Eve has never heard of this mysterious cousin, she doesn’t remember Niko ever mentioning extended family members. She wonders what must have happened to cause such a rift, one that he hasn’t mentioned after all this time.

“What cousin? What happened?”

“There’s no time to get into the details now. Please promise me you’ll do it, just this one thing for me?”

“Sure,” Eve says with a wave of her hand. “Send me the details and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, dear. You are going to make a great wife.”

Niko stoops down to drop a quick kiss on Eve’s lips then walks into the airport.

Eve turns the engine over and heads for Bill’s for a nightcap.

\-----

“You have to go see his cousin,” Bill asks as he sips his beer.

“Yeah. I said I would,” Eve says while she pulls her hair back into a ponytail.

“It doesn’t seem wise to get yourself mixed up in drama. Not with your track record.” Bill tips his beer bottle in Eve’s direction and gives her that knowing look of his.

Eve rolls her eyes at him. Of course he would bring _that_ up at a time like this and the utter shite her last relationship became at the end.

“Don’t remind me.”

She can still remember the sound of Hugo walking out of their flat that night, all those years ago, after another stupid argument about his family and their money.

Eve really did care for him, maybe more than she cares for Niko now, but she could never stand for the way his parents flaunted their money around in front of her face. 

It was too much and she was too proud. They had said things that they could never take back and never did. Hugo left and she never looked back.

Eve snaps herself out of the memory to listen to her best friend.

“Why are you marrying that dick swab anyhow?”

“Hey,” Eve shouts, “that’s my future husband you’re talking about.”

“I know. I can’t believe you would actually go throw with it and marry a man who is so dull and has that face of his.”

“What’s wrong with his face,” Eve asks.

“It’s the moustache. What’s he hiding, huh? You cannot trust a man when you can’t see his whole face.”

Eve gives him a light smack to his arm. 

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“I am not,” Bill says with a serious and pointed look. “I’m right and you know it. You’re far too interesting to settle for the likes of _Niko Polastri.”_

He tugs Eve by the sleeve of her shirt and walks her over to his window.

“Look up at that moon, Eve.”

She follows Bill’s hand while he point up to the beautiful blue-ish white orb that glows perfectly above them. It’s full and bright and nearly enough to take her breath away for a moment. She’s never seen it quite so close or vibrant before.

It almost feels as if she can reach out and touch it.

Of course, Eve won’t let him know that. She could never let him know that his gooey, sappy, loving nature has rubbed off on her ever so slightly.

“What about it? Looks like every other full moon,” she lies.

“This is a blue moon – meant for romance. For true love. It shouldn’t be wasted on the Niko’s of this world.”

\-----

Eve picks up the large duffle, filled with the evidence collected from the takedown of a small piece of the money laundering organisation her team and her boss, Carolyn Martens, have been targeting for years.

The raid this morning gives Eve a sense of pride after months and months of arduous research and investigative work. Eve had walked into her mentor’s office last week and convinced her that now was the time for MI6 to take down this arm of the network.

“Take that to the evidence locker straight away,” Carolyn instructs.

“I’m on it,” Eve says with a small smile.

“Don’t look so pleased. This is but a tiny cog in a much larger machine that we have yet to unearth.”

“Small victories, right,” Eve asks with a shrug.

“Hardly, Eve. There is no such thing in this rat race. Only winners and losers – if you’ve allowed yourself the time to believe you’ve won, you are surely a loser.”

Carolyn turns on her heels and walks out of the hidden room of the stash house.

Eve can’t help but shake her head.

After she savors the win and the mark this will hopefully earn her toward her ultimate goal of lead agent on the case, Eve exits the building and gets in her car.

Reflexively, she dials Niko.

“Hello,” he says.

“Niko. Hey, how are you?”

“Fine. I’m fine. But ma… Eve, she doesn’t look good.”

_It’s about time. She's ancient._

“Aw,” she manages to choke out with a tone that she thinks sounds like sadness, “I’m sorry. But I’m glad you’re there with her now.”

“Me too.”

Eve hears him choking up on the other end of the phone and rolls her eyes to no one in particular.

“Maybe you should tell her about the wedding? I’m sure it will bring her some peace in the end, knowing you will be happy,” Eve says.

“No, I can’t. She’s too weak and slipping away. It will kill her…”

Eve listens to the loud mouth of her future mother-in-law yelling from the background. She rolls her eyes even harder and pushes the phone away from her ear as he continues to talk.

_What the fuck?_

“What? Niko, you can’t be serious. I can hear her over the phone and you said you were going to tell her.” Eve tries to bite her anger down but it starts to boil up through her gut.

“I know, but I can’t do that to her. Not now. These are her final moments. You know how she gets about us, it will be too much.”

Eve runs her hand through her curls in an effort to steady the anger.

“Well at least tell me when you want to do it.”

Niko lets out a long, slow breath.

She can practically hear him running his fingers across his moustache as he avoids the topic.

“I don’t know, Eve. I told you, now is not the time for talk of marriage.”

“You’re the one who proposed!”

“I know that – and we will when I get back…”

“In a month? When you’re back. Can we do it in a month,” Eve asks.

“Sure – a month. Whatever you say.” His words sound distant and distracted. 

The small roots of doubt begin to bore their way into the back of Eve’s mind.

“You know what, I have to go,” she says.

As she goes to end the call, Niko shouts into the phone.

“Eve – wait!”

She lets out a loud huff that she hopes he can hear all the way in Poland.

“What is it?”

“My cousin. Did you talk to her yet?”

She would typically feel guilty for forgetting, yet can’t bring herself to care in the moment. 

With all of the excitement of the latest break in her case, she let her promise to her future husband completely slip her mind over the last few days. Now, she’s glad she did.

“No,” she admits as she closes her eyes and lets her head fall back against her car’s headrest. “Why can’t you do it yourself when you get back?”

“I’ve tried. She will never see me.”

“And what makes you so sure she’ll want to speak to me either,” Eve points out.

“Please, Eve. This is very important to me. I need her to be there for our wedding.”

_The wedding at some unknown date he refuses to set._

“Okay. Okay. I’ll go.”

“Today,” he pleads.

“Yes, fine. I’ll go today.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure,” Eve says as she puts her key in the ignition and turns the engine over.

She hangs up with Niko before he can get out his goodbye and pulls up the address for his cousin’s design studio.

It’s only a few minutes away and Eve decides she might as well get it over with after she stops at the registry office to set the wedding date.

\-----

Eve rings the buzzer that’s linked to the business Niko told her to find.

_V. Astankova Designs_

“Hello. May I help you,” asks a man’s voice from the call box.

“Hi, yes. I’m looking for…” Eve looks down at the name again and scoffs slightly, “Villanelle Astankova.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Uhm. No, I don’t. I need to speak to her about a family matter,” she says, grasping for anything in the moment.

Eve waits several long moments that seem to stretch well beyond a socially acceptable allotment.

As her frustration grows and she reaches her index finger back toward the buzzer, the door opens and she pushes her way inside.

When she hits the top of the stairs to the loft space, Eve is met by a portly man with a salt and pepper beard.

He smiles at her but it doesn’t reach his eyes and she’s immediately on edge in his presence.

“Hello,” he says again. “Now - who are you?”

“I’m Eve. Who are you,” she asks with a tip of her chin.

“Konstantin Vasiliev. I am Villanelle’s assistant.” He reaches out his large hand for a shake, which Eve accepts.

As they shake, she feels him looking her over and analysing closely.

“You don’t look like any of Villanelle’s family that I know.”

“I’m not,” Eve says frankly. “Not yet anyhow. I’m engaged to her cousin, Niko Polastri.”

Konstantin lets out a booming belly laugh at her words.

“Niko. You are here because of Niko,” he asks as he pulls his hand away and shakes his head.

Gauging his reaction, Eve realises that she may not be prepared for whatever sort of confrontation is about to transpire when she comes face-to-face with Villanelle.

It causes a slight nervousness to run through her body.

“Yeah… What happened between them?”

“You do not know,” he asks, rubbing his beard.

“No. Niko asked me to come here to invite Villanelle to our wedding. He’s away visiting his mother. He only said there was some type of falling out.” Eve pushes a flyaway from her pulled back curls out of her face and behind her ear. “So, what happened?”

“It is not my place to speak on these things. Better you hear it from her.”

Konstantin turns and begins to walk down a narrow hallway.

“Follow me,” he says.

Eve lets him lead her to closed door at the end of the hall made of heavy frosted glass.

“Wait here,” Konstantin says as opens the door and walks inside the office.

She hears muffled voices that grow louder with each second that passes. Eve feels the anxiety of meeting Villanelle ripple through her.

Then it is suddenly awkwardly silent of the other side of the door.

Finally, Konstantin steps back into the hall and motions his head toward the door.

“Go in.”

Eve steps past him and pushes into the office. The tall woman, who she presumes to be Villanelle, is standing by the wall with her back to Eve and hovering over photos of rooms and furniture and pinned scraps of fabric. All the images and items are methodically placed along a large board in the center of the wall.

The woman makes no effort to turn toward Eve. So she decides to clear her throat and tries to hide the disdain she has for the whole situation.

“Uhm. Hello?”

“Yes,” Villanelle asks without turning around. She has a Russian accent, Eve notices immediately. Her voice oozes with a mixture of bravado and impertinence that makes Eve scoff.

“I’m here because my fiancé asked me to see you,” she responds. Her annoyance touches the edges of her voice and hardens her tone a bit.

Finally, Villanelle manages to acknowledge Eve.

When she does, it’s not at all what Eve expects.

She’s a beautiful, young woman with honey blonde hair that’s pulled back in a tight French braid and she wears a navy and green striped blazer with a tight V-neck shirt beneath and matching navy pants.

Eve watches as catlike eyes stare at her for far too long, Villanelle’s lips slightly parted. Her gaze feels both direct and chilling, like she is staring right through Eve for moment.

Eve takes the opportunity to take in the view before her in return, noting the other woman’s delicate features along the way.

She has no idea how long they stand in place staring at one another. It feels like it could be just a millisecond, but it also feels like it could be hours.

An aroma that’s a mix of the sea and vanilla and earthy wood cuts through the haze of Eve’s mind as she takes in the bougie and expensive scents wafting through the space.

They probably come from pretentious candles that cost thirty quid a piece she thinks as she forces her focus back to the present – and Niko.

“Are you alright,” Eve finally asks.

As if snapped from a trance of her own, a devilish smirk curls its way onto Villanelle’s lips and she leans against the wall.

“Well,” Eve asks again with the annoyance now clear in the way it clips the word.

She watches as Villanelle stands upright, pushes her blazer back with her palms and tucks her hands into the pockets of the admittedly perfectly tailored trousers that seem to accentuate her equally perfect figure.

“You are marrying Niko?” The blonde raises a curious eyebrow with her question.

Eve can’t help but wonder why multiple people are already seemingly doubting her impending nuptials. She steadies herself and mentally prepares her answer.

“Yes, I am.” Eve finds all the conviction she can muster for the words.

“Hmm,” Villanelle hums with a tilt of her head.

“It would mean a great deal if you joined us for our wedding.”

Villanelle takes a step toward Eve and she feels the blonde raking her eyes up and down her body.

“When is this wedding,” she asks.

“In a month,” Eve answers. 

On her way, she secured their appointment at the registry office in four week’s time.

Eve catches something the flickers across Villanelle’s eyes before they go blank and turn to distant, hazel pools of nothingness.

“No. I already have plans,” Villanelle says flatly.

Eve shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she takes a step toward the other woman.

“That’s doubtful. I haven’t even told you the date yet.”

“It does not matter. I know I will be busy.”

With that, Villanelle turns around and walks back over to her board.

_When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie  
That’s amore_


	2. The World Seems to Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve saves Villanelle by yeeting herself across a busy London road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is NOT from Moonstruck. But it's KE Week and I have prompts to hit.
> 
> Eventually, this will probably be converted into a one shot fic.

“Hey,” Eve shouts, “what is your problem? I’m asking you to come to a wedding because your family wants you there.”

She walks over to Villanelle and tries to grab her shoulder to turn her around. As Eve does, Villanelle grabs her wrist in warning.

“He is _not_ family.”

While Villanelle narrows her gaze and look squarely into Eve’s eyes, she feels her mouth suddenly go dry and her skin burning under the heat of the contact, the words Eve wants to get out become too difficult to speak.

She takes a breath to steady herself as Villanelle pulls her hand away.

“I – I don’t understand what happened between you two,” Eve says. “Please tell me.”

The blonde’s face relaxes slightly and Eve can swear she hears the gears working in her mind, as if she’s weighing her options.

“It is a very long story,” Villanelle says finally. “One that I don’t want to discuss here. Would you like to get some coffee with me? We can talk there.”

Eve’s body immediately relaxes and she gives Villanelle a small nod.

“Sure.”

“Okay,” Villanelle says while grabbing her bag. Eve notices what she thinks is a brief but genuine smile flash across her face as she turns to her desk for her belongs.

The sight lightens something within Eve and a steady wave of warmth washes over her.

Eve moves to the frosted glass door as she waits for Villanelle and can’t help herself but wonder how, in a matter of only a few minutes, she has managed to run a full gambit of emotions while trying to speak to the younger woman.

She thinks about the last time she’s ever allowed herself feel quite so much recently and doesn’t come up with an answer.

\-----

Rather than talking as promised, they sit in silence while drinking their coffee – at least, Eve drinks her coffee.

Villanelle has some sickeningly sweet frozen coffee and chocolate mixture that’s covered in whipped topping.

Eve can’t help but gawk as she sucks it down in a few long, loud sips.

After she takes a sip of her own drink, Eve decides to try again to uncover the mysterious conflict between Villanelle and Niko.

“So,” she says, “are you going to tell me what your problem is with Niko?”

Villanelle sits up in her seat and folds her arms across her chest, yet again studying Eve.

“Why do you assume _I_ am the one with the problem,” Villanelle asks.

“Well you’re the one who doesn’t seem to have any interest in attending our wedding,” Eve answers.

“What has Niko told you about me?”

Eve thinks for a moment. She had no idea Villanelle existed until a few days ago when her fiancé asked for her help. She doesn’t even know how the two are related.

“Not much honestly – that you were like a sister to him.”

Villanelle rolls her eyes at the assertion.

“Hardly. The moustache is dead to me… he still has that terrible moustache doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does.”

“He looks like someone stuck a moustache on some fudge,” Villanelle grumbles with a quirk of her lip.

Eve knows she shouldn’t laugh and tries to force it back down her throat, but she can’t. Luckily, she manages to keep it to a small chuckle and a shake of her head.

It makes Villanelle laugh too.

She decides to take this opening to utilize her interrogation skills to probe for answers. 

_What good is being a secret agent if you can’t use it?_

“Why is he dead to you,” Eve asks from behind the rim of her coffee.

“Don’t you think the better question to ask is why Niko has not told you about me or what he did?”

_So much for that secret agent bullshit…_

Eve is taken aback by the questions. They’re good ones, questions that she’s been asking herself for days.

“I’ll be asking the questions,” Eve says defensively.

Seemingly in slow motion, a shit-eating grin grows across Villanelle’s lips when she realises she’s struck a nerve.

“If you insist.”

Villanelle leans closer and Eve can practically feel the heat from the proximity of her body despite the small table between them.

“Please, Eve. Ask away,” she practically purrs.

Not to be deterred, Eve leans over to counter her.

“What did he do? And – ,” Eve says, pointing her finger toward Villanelle, “I’m asking because I want to hear what you have to say, not because Niko hasn’t told me.”

“You truly want to know,” Villanelle asks.

“Yes,” she says, reaching her hand across the table to rest on the blonde’s arm. “I want to know.”

Eve lets her fingers stay on Villanelle’s forearm for half a heartbeat longer. She relishes the sparks of energy that seem to fire through her skin from the touch.

Villanelle looks from Eve’s eyes down to her arm and Eve self-consciously pulls her hand away.

There’s a silence that hangs between them for a moment, the weight of it is like a stone settling firmly in Eve’s chest.

“About ten years ago, during my first year at university, I took a maths course. Niko was the professor that term.”

Eve remembers back to the stories Niko had shared about the few years he taught at university, before he accepted his current position at a posh private school.

She now wishes she had paid better attention when he spoke about his time there. Eve always tuned him out when he went on about teaching. Though he loved it, she always found it desperately tiresome.

“Maths are so _boring,”_ Villanelle continues, “but I thought it would be an easy course with him teaching it.”

“Naturally,” Eve says with a smile.

“Well, it was not so easy. I was distracted during most class sessions. Niko had a teaching assistant for the term… Anna.”

Eve watches closely as the same distant look falls back across Villanelle’s features like a heavy shroud and she turns her head away slightly.

“When he found out that we were doing more than equations, he told the head of the department about our relationship.”

Eve does her best to remain silent while Villanelle recounts her story. She doesn’t want to pass judgment until she hears the whole story.

“Anna was removed from her position and forced out of the maths program because of it. She blamed me for what happened to her and would no longer speak to me.”

Villanelle stares off and Eve wonders if she’s chasing some memory of what was or old dreams of what might have been.

Then, as if she’s vaulted back to the present, Villanelle focuses on Eve and the glint returns to her hazel eyes.

“I have not spoken to Niko since.”

With all the sincerity she possesses, Eve says, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Villanelle leans back in her chair once again.

“Yes, well that is Niko, isn’t it? He is too safe and always has to follow the rules.”

Eve’s thoughts drift to him and their life together and how utterly normal it all is.

She inexplicably thinks about the arguments they sometimes have – about how dangerous her job is, about the way she leaves cotton balls on the nightstand, how she folds his shirts incorrectly and how she stays out with her friends too late too often.

_Normal and safe and boring._

Villanelle must sense that Eve is caught in her own thoughts. She clears her throat and Eve blinks herself back to the coffee shop.

“Now that I have answered your questions, will you tell me about you,” Villanelle asks.

“That depends. What do you want to know?”

“You’re American?”

“Sort of,” Eve answers.

Villanelle quirks her eyebrow and smiles.

“I was born here, but my parents moved to Connecticut when I was a kid. I came back for university and never left.”

“Hmm,” is all that Villanelle has to say, seemingly deciding if she accepts the response.

While Eve takes another sip of her coffee the younger woman throws out another question.

“What is it you do for work?”

Eve has become used to this question over the years. It’s one she gets often, so she gives her well-tread answer.

“I work for the government.”

“Okay… but you did not answer my question. What do you do for work,” Villanelle asks again.

She narrows her gazes and focuses in on Eve’s eyes as if she’s searching for some hidden answer. It makes Eve feel exposed, the way that Villanelle looks at her so intently.

It’s as if she can the way to push past the careful walls Eve has spent years building, the walls she puts up for the people she interacts with outside of MI6. She’s even used them to keep Niko away, partly for his own good, partly because she hates how he worries, but mostly because she doesn’t want to let him into that part of her life.

Yet in a crowded coffee shop, sitting across from a woman she’s just met, Eve feels the walls cracking ever so slightly. 

She fights desperately to keep them upright.

“It’s desk work. Nothing special,” she lies.

Villanelle appears unconvinced.

“Bullshit,” she says. “You are not the type of woman who has a normal desk job.”

Eve feels an instinctive need to push back and she doesn’t know where it comes from or why. It’s the most important thing in the world in that moment – to keep Villanelle out.

“You don’t know a thing about me,” she counters.

“I think that I do. I know many things,” Villanelle says.

Eve rolls her eyes.

“Why are you marrying Niko? And why don’t you wear a ring?”

The questions catch Eve off-guard and she takes what she knows is far too long to come up with an underwhelming answer. 

It makes her skin burn in anger.

“That’s none of your business,” Eve says dryly.

“They are only questions,” Villanelle muses.

Eve lets the silence hang between them for a few minutes as she finishes her coffee. She runs her thumb across the ring finger of her left hand, as if she misses some non-existent piece of jewelry Niko has yet to give her.

A small twinge of resentment tugs at the back of her mind as she thinks about the way Niko didn’t have a ring for her and because she agreed to marry him in spite of his lack of preparation.

“Are we done here,” she asks as looks at her phone.

“Yes,” Villanelle says, standing from the table.

They walk out of the coffee shop and make their way back toward Villanelle’s office.

As Eve gets to her car, she feels Villanelle’s eyes on her from across the road.

She turns and looks back to the blonde.

“So are you going to come?”

Villanelle smirks and steps into the road.

“Do you want me to,” she asks.

Eve contemplates the question as she fumbles with the keys in her hand.

Villanelle continues to step closer to Eve as she waits for her to speak.

“Yeah, I – ”

Before Eve can finish her answer, she notices a dump truck driving far too quickly down the narrow road. Within the space of a millisecond, it’s upon them, upon Villanelle, who stands in the middle of the roadway focusing entirely on Eve as if she’s the only thing in the world.

The truck honks its horn and Villanelle finally turns her head toward the sound.

_“Villanelle!”_

All of Eve’s MI6 training kicks in before she has time to think and she manages to dive across the road, torpedoing herself at Villanelle and pushing them both out of the way of the truck just as it flies past them.

Out of instinct, Eve ducks her shoulder and rolls safely away. As she stands up, she brushes the dirt off her pants and rubs her hands together to remove the small pebbles and debris that gathered on her palms.

When she looks up, Eve sees Villanelle hunched over, bracing one hand against a parked car and rubbing her the back of her head.

“Are you alright,” Eve asks.

Villanelle looks up at her and Eve can see her hazel eyes are swimming in confusion.

“I think so,” she answers.

When Villanelle pushes away from the car to stand, her balance falters and Eve reaches over to keep her upright.

“Did you hit your head?”

“I – I don’t remember,” Villanelle says as she leans on Eve. “My head is foggy.”

“I think you might have a concussion. Let me take you to the hospital.”

“No! No hospitals,” Villanelle says while pushing herself out of Eve’s grasp. “I cannot be around all those terrible shoes and sick people.”

“That’s ridiculous. But fine. Whatever you want,” Eve says as she rolls her eyes and reaches back out to prop Villanelle’s arm across her shoulders. 

“My flat is not far from here. I will go home.” 

Villanelle squirms a little, but continues to lean on Eve.

“At least let me walk you and make sure you are okay,” Eve offers.

“Okay.”

\-----

Eve rests her elbow and forearm against the cool cement of the kitchen island then downs a large glass of water.

She sits her empty glass on the island and tries to roll some of the tension out of her neck. While she turns her head slowly to loosen a knot, Eve’s attention is drawn to a framed picture that hangs just to her left, between the kitchen and living space.

It’s a whispy line drawing of a flowing ballerina in heavy, black charcoal. Eve thinks she’s seen something like it before, definitely hanging in a museum in France somewhere.

She thinks about Villanelle’s long and lean frame and the way she moves so effortlessly when she walks, much like an elegant prima ballerina.

Her eyes travel to the bed where Villanelle sleeps as she considers the woman who occupied so much of her day and all her current thoughts. Eve watches as the large mass huddled under the duvet begins to stir.

She’s been here for hours. Eve refuses to leave until she can be sure that Villanelle is feeling better. If the stubborn woman wouldn’t go to the hospital, she had to see to it that the concussion wasn’t cause for serious concern.

“Eve,” Villanelle calls.

_When the world seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine  
That’s amore_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying this dumb little story so far.
> 
> I'm on twitter and tumblr if you want to say hi.
> 
> Tomorrow is soft day, and personally, while I love reading/watching soft scenes, I do much better with angst. So we'll see how that goes.


	3. When You Walk in a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doubly Soft?
> 
> Quasi-soft, then angst, then soft at the ballet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Spoilers for the 19th Century ballet, Giselle.
> 
> I will get this in before Midnight eastern and make the Day 3 prompt deadline, mark my words.
> 
> Soft really isn't my thing so I hope you like this.

Hmm,” Eve hums.

She walks from the kitchen across the open space. Eve sits on the edge of the bed and marvels at how much smaller and softer Villanelle looks like this.

It’s such a stark contrast from the smug woman she met a few hours ago.

“You’re still here,” she asks.

“Yeah. I’m still here,” Eve says with a smile. “You were being a little prick about going to the hospital, so I had to make sure you didn’t die.”

Villanelle smiles back at her and Eve swears there’s a spark that flickers deep within her chest at the sight.

“Thank you,” Villanelle says, barely above a whisper.

“You’re welcome.”

Eve’s fingers reach out to Villanelle as if they’re being pulled to her by some gravitational force she’s powerless to stop. She pushes a loose strand of blonde hair behind Villanelle’s ear and feels her lean in to the touch.

She locks onto the hazel eyes that stare up at her. It’s like oxygen to the flickering ember in her chest and she feels the warmth of the growing flame rising in her.

“Why are you marrying him,” Villanelle asks.

As if she’s been hit with a bucket of ice water, the flame dies and it leaves a dark, cold void.

Eve shakes her head.

“What?”

“Why are you marrying Niko?”

“Because I love him,” Eve says firmly. “And because it’s time.”

“It’s time? That is a terrible reason to marry someone,” Villanelle says. 

She sits up from the bed and gives Eve a knowing look.

“I also said that I love him.”

“Mhmm. If you say so.” The thick, deep tone in Villanelle’s voice is laced with such an obnoxious swagger that it causes Eve’s stomach to flip in annoyance.

It’s as if the Villanelle from before is suddenly back in front of her and Eve bolts up from the bed.

“I do,” she says far too defensively.

Villanelle sighs.

“If that is what you need to tell yourself. But I can see you, Eve.”

Eve feels anger bubbling up and overtaking everything within her.

_“Oh yeah?_ You have a concussion so who the fuck knows what you can actually see. But if you’re so sure, you can see this,” she walks over and grabs her purse and jacket.

Eve bounds down the stairs and slams the door behind her. She has no idea if Villanelle called after her or tried to follow her. The blood pumping through her body is running so hot and so loud that it’s the only thing she can hear.

The cool rush of the night air hits her face and Eve welcomes the instantaneous relief it brings. After a few moments, she feels her anger subside slightly and she can breathe again.

Eve heads in the direction of her car, walking under the bright light of an even larger blue moon than the night before.

\-----

Eve sits at her desk, trying to will herself to close her browser and delete her internet search history.

She’s spent the better part of the morning reading through Villanelle’s numerous interviews in ridiculous interior design magazines. 

Eve has a second tab open that’s on Villanelle’s website. She decides to create a fake name and schedule a design consultation appointment and will be a no show.

It’s certainly petty, but Eve is beyond caring about such things. After she got home from Villanelle’s flat last night, she tossed and turned in bed for hours, unable to get that damn woman and her stupid, infuriating smirk out of her head.

As her cursor hovers over the _Submit_ button to send a request for Tallulah Shark to meet with Villanelle, Eve finds herself hesitating.

She thinks about the moment she could swear there was something electric crackling in the air between them in the coffee shop and her need to touch Villanelle’s face. It was so different from anything else Eve had ever experienced. 

They were only together for a few hours, but the intensity of it all was palpable.

“Oh. Are you doing some redecorating,” Elena asks as she walks over with an extra coffee in hand.

She hold it out for Eve, who takes it happily, in need of any extra boost of caffeine she can get after her mostly sleepless night.

“Uhm, yeah,” Eve says from behind the plastic lid. “With the engagement and all, I thought it might be nice to update the house.”

“Let me see.” Elena rolls her chair over to Eve’s desk and watches excitedly as she scrolls through Villanelle’s website. “Is this who you’re going with?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Wow,” Elena says when she clicks through to Villanelle’s bio on the site. “She’s hot.”

_Well, damn._

_She’s not wrong._

“I’m aware.”

“Wait a bloody minute.” Elena turns and eyes Eve suspiciously. “Why does this name sound familiar?”

“Uh – do you remember Niko’s long lost cousin,” Eve asks as she runs her fingers through her curls.

“Yeah…”

Eve gestures to her computer monitor.

“Oh my god! _That’s_ Niko’s cousin?”

“Apparently,” Eve says.

“Fuck me. I think you’re marrying the wrong cousin, Eve.”

She just laughs at the idea, but it comes out sounding more nervous than she hoped.

Elena raises her eyebrow.

“What did you do?”

Eve scoffs at her and turns away.

“Eve – what is it?”

“It’s nothing. I just – I met her yesterday. She’s a complete arsehole.”

“Uh huh. And you’re certain that’s all?”

_“Yes, Elena._ I am.” She knows that her tone and how defensive she gets does nothing to help her cause.

Eve clicks her mouse exceedingly hard to emphasize her point, which also doesn’t help her cause.

“Whatever you say,” Elena says as she scoots her chair back over to her desk.

They sit in silence for a few minutes and it starts to eat away at Eve’s resolve. Elena is right, there is something else about Villanelle that sticks to her in a way she can’t explain.

She walks over to Elena’s desk and lets out a small breath.

“I’m sorry,” she says with a half smile.

“It’s fine, mate. I’m just worried about you. You know that.” Elena reaches out and rests her hand on Eve’s.

“I know. You don’t have to be though. She got under my skin, that’s all. The whole situation was shite.”

Elena pulls her in for a hug and Eve does her best to return it. 

While locked together, Elena jokes, “Seriously though. How is she related to your fiancé? That woman is beyond gorgeous.”

Eve rolls her eyes as she moves out of the embrace with a smile.

They look each other over and start to laugh as Kenny quietly enters the room and clears his throat.

“Uh, Eve?”

“Yeah?”

“Carolyn wants to see you. She doesn’t seem pleased. Something about the raid,” he says.

Eve thinks back to her mission, trying to figure out what Carolyn could possibly be upset by.

Then it dawns on her.

The evidence in the duffle is still sitting in the boot of her car.

“Oh fuck,” she mutters.

\-----

She pulls the wine from the fridge and pours herself a glass. With a heavy sigh after a long day filled with the uncomfortable, disappointed looks Carolyn threw her way, Eve is ready to unwind and start her weekend.

All things considered, her boss handled things rather evenly. 

That had only made it worse – Carolyn did that thing of hers where she stared directly through Eve in a way that made her stomach turn.

As she walks through the kitchen, fully intending to turn the corner to spend the rest of the evening lounging in bed with her wine, Eve hears the doorbell ring.

She checks the peephole and can’t see anyone or anything outside.

Setting her glass down on the table in her entryway, Eve slowly unlocks the door and opens it ever so slightly. She peers her head out and still doesn’t find anyone on the other side.

She pulls the door open fully and that’s when she looks down and finds the large white box on the doorstep.

Eve quickly picks up the box and tucks it under her arm. She takes another sip of her wine and makes her way up the stairs to the bedroom.

Though Niko’s away and she’s in the house alone, Eve closes the bedroom door, in need of additional privacy for some unknown reason.

With one more sip of her wine, she pulls the lid off of the large white box.

The contents are covered with black tissue paper and a small envelope sits neatly on top.

Eve opens the envelope and removes the thick piece of cardstock inside. 

For half a heartbeat, she thinks that maybe, maybe Niko sent her something from Poland. It’s entirely out of character for her soon-to-be-husband, but a small part of Eve hopes that he came to his senses and realised that he had been wrong for not wanting to set a wedding date.

_He had also been wrong for proposing without a ring._

When she turns the card over in her hand, Eve knows whatever it is that’s in the box cannot be from Niko. The handwriting is far too neat to be his and he would never write anything like this.

_Sorry_  
_Baby_  
_X_

She turns her attention back to the box.

Eve runs her fingers over the tissue paper and uses them to rip apart the tape that keeps the pieces secured. 

She peels back the paper to reveal a silky black and cream coloured designer dress. Eve lifts the dress out of the box by its thin straps and holds it in front of her for better inspection.

Something in her makes the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Eve can’t quite figure out what about the card and dress are so unsettling, other than the fact that she has no idea who sent them to her.

Eve reaches over and takes a large gulp of her wine and thinks about who could have done such a thing?

As if on queue, she hears her cell phone ringing downstairs.

She rushes down and unlocks her phone just after the call drops. When Eve looks at the number for the missed call, it’s unknown.

Then her phone rings again.

It’s another unknown number. Or it’s the unknown same number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Eve,” the voice says.

She immediately knows who it is on the other end of the call. 

It’s Villanelle.

The way she says Eve’s name, the raspiness of it, hits somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach and settles there so deliciously that makes Eve want to forget how she stormed out of Villanelle’s flat.

“Villanelle,” Eve says as flatly as possible. “How did you get my number?”

“I have decided that I will attend your wedding to the moustache,” Villanelle announces airily, completely ignoring Eve’s question.

Eve thinks about how much she _does not_ want Villanelle to be there.

Things would be much easier if she had simply ignored Niko when he asked her to meet Villanelle. She is used to it by now, but for some reason, as if by some cruel joke of a non-existent higher being, Eve did listen this time.

“Is that so,” Eve asks nonchalantly.

“Yes. I will. On one condition.”

Eve can’t stop the maniacal laugh that escapes her mouth at such a brash idea. 

_Where the fuck does Villanelle get off thinking she should be making deals?_

As much as she wants to ignore her, Eve is betrayed by her curiosity.

“What’s that,” she asks.

“Go to the ballet with me tomorrow night.”

Eve swears she must be hearing things.

“What?”

“They are performing Giselle at the Coliseum. It is my favourite. If you go with me, I will go to the wedding.”

“No deal,” Eve says.

“What! Why,” Villanelle asks. She actually sounds genuinely hurt by the rejection.

“There’s nothing in it for me.” Eve gives herself a pat on the back for turning the tables on the other woman.

“So the dress wasn’t enough?”

“That was _you?”_ She has a myriad of other questions now, but sticks to the obvious one.

“Uh…yes. Who else would it be? The moustache has no sense of style.”

“Quit calling him that.”

“I will,” Villanelle offers, “if you go to the ballet with me.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I’m a very funny person, Eve. But I would not joke about this. Go to the ballet with me.”

Eve lets out a loud huff as she falters much too easily. She promises herself she’ll re-examine it later, when she’s well rested, or after a few more glasses of wine.

“Fine.”

“Really,” Villanelle asks excitedly. Eve swears she hears an almost childlike joy in her voice.

She reminds herself that Villanelle is most definitely not sweet.

“Yes,” Eve says with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Perfect. I will text you the information,” Villanelle says.

“Okay.”

As Eve goes to end the call, she hears Villanelle shouting into the receiver.

“Wear the dress!”

She hangs up without responding.

\-----

Eve does not wear the dress.

She refuses to give Villanelle the satisfaction.

That didn’t stop her from trying it on though. Or from marveling at how perfectly it fit her body and how amazing the fabric felt against her skin.

She did buy a new dress earlier in the day and took a few extra minutes getting ready to make sure her curls were styled with the right amount of control.

She allows that much. Nothing more.

Her new dress is blue with thin straps and a rectangular cut out that exposes a perfect hint of skin at the top of her breasts.

_None of it is for Villanelle._

It’s all for herself, Eve repeats as she walks toward the awning of the London Coliseum.

She never has nights out like this. They’re too extravagant and posh and definitely not her style.

This one time though, Eve allows herself this one night.

Large crowds of people stand near the entrance to the theatre while others mill about in small groups.

Through it all, somehow, Eve spots Villanelle in a flowing black dress with sheer arms and a high neck.

The evening chill is too bitter to be out without a coat, Eve thinks, even if it creates a dramatic look.

The blonde’s back is to her, much like their first meeting.

As if she can sense brown eyes on her, Villanelle turns around and immediately connects with Eve’s gaze.

When it happens, Eve’s certain she feels something ripples across the distance between them.

The corner of Villanelle’s mouth lifts up into a small smile that Eve matches.

“Hi,” Eve says when she reaches Villanelle.

“Hi.”

The blonde gestures Eve toward the doors and hands their tickets to the usher.

\-----

Eve steps behind the heavy curtain to the opera box where they’ll be sitting.

She unbuttons her coat and shrugs it off her shoulders. When she does, Eve sees Villanelle’s eyes light up from over her shoulder and she grins to herself for eliciting the reaction.

Eve sinks down into the cushioned seat and Villanelle leans over the armrest that separates them.

“You didn’t wear the dress I bought you,” she says.

“No,” Eve answers.

Her eyes remain locked on the stage and the people settling into their seats below them.

She feels Villanelle inch her way closer, bright red lips and hot breath burning against her ear.

“I like this one better,” Villanelle confesses in a low, gravely voice.

Eve turns her head to the right ever so slightly and locks eyes with Villanelle.

They focus on one another until the house lights dim and the dancers take the stage.

\-----

Ballet is hardly Eve’s art form of choice, though she finds that she’s actually enjoying it tonight.

She is also enthralled with each glance of Villanelle that she allows herself. Eve can see the passion on her face with every turn and leap and lift.

At some point during Act I, Villanelle catches Eve staring at her.

“You’re not watching,” she whispers.

“Yes, I am,” Eve says.

Villanelle smiles brightly at her for a moment then returns her focus to the stage.

Eve does the same.

During the intermission, they wade into the crowded lobby and Eve leans against the wall to take in the beautiful architecture while Villanelle orders drinks.

Villanelle returns and hands Eve a glass of white wine. 

“Cheers,” Villanelle says, holding her own glass out for Eve to clink.

“Cheers.”

“Thank you for coming with me tonight, Eve.”

“Sure.”

Eve scolds herself for the stupid non-answer answer.

“Are you having a nice time?”

“I am,” she concedes as she lifts the glass to her lips.

“So am I,” Villanelle says.

A few minutes later, the lights flicker and the chimes ring out and everyone returns to their seats.

Eve is swept up by the beauty of Act II. With each new dance, she finds that she’s increasingly invested in the story between the lovers – will they survive, will they find their way together again even after death?

When Giselle defeats the Wills and saves Albrecht, Eve turns to Villanelle one final time.

She sees glassy hazel eyes, tears teetering threateningly at the edges of Villanelle’s lashes.

Eve reaches over and takes Villanelle’s hand in her own and turns back to the stage.

A single tear escapes from her own eye as Giselle returns to the afterlife.

_When you walk in a dream but you know you’re not dreaming signore_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this dumb little fic for KE Week. I promise I'll be back with the two wine idiots ASAP.
> 
> I'm on twitter and tumblr if you want to say hi.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this first chapter.
> 
> Please let me know what you think about this story, especially if you liked it. If you hated it, I don't need to know.
> 
> I'm on twitter @KRKacs and tumblr @kai-oz23
> 
> See you all tomorrow!


End file.
